


The Birds of Sorrow

by fanoftheknight



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-09 10:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheknight/pseuds/fanoftheknight
Summary: Post 8.03 (because I will never be over the loss of the mighty Ser Jorah Mormont)Daenerys awakes to find herself alone in a world she doesn't recognise





	1. The Birds of Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> After reading so many great Jorleesi stories on here, I thought I would pluck up the courage and have a go at writing my own.
> 
> This is my first attempt at a GoT fic and so please go easy on me!
> 
> I have an idea for at least one more chapter for this story and possibly more. I guess I'll have to see where my muse takes me!
> 
> BTW, I could never match the skills and styles of the fantastic writers we have here already, but here is my little contribution to the Jorleesi movement :)

Her eyes opened slowly to unfamiliar surroundings.

Her last memory had been of the throne room and Jon Snow kissing her. 

He had told her that she would always be his queen.

She had dreamed that together, they would mould the world into their own image. They would make a new world, one in which they ruled the Seven Kingdoms.

No sooner had she melted into his embrace, the dagger he’d hidden had entered her chest. She remembered him lowering her to the ground, her life draining away as she looked into his eyes. 

The eyes of a coward and a traitor.

Darkness slowly encroached her vision, until everything went black and she fell into a dark nothingness.

Sitting up, she realised that it wasn’t ash falling to the ground as it had done in Kings Landing, but snow.

And it was cold. Bitterly cold.

Hell was meant to be hot, wasn’t it?

Fire had never been able to touch her though. It stood to reason that her Hell would be the opposite. 

In those fateful hours in Kings Landing, she had simply lost her mind. Losing Missandei so soon after losing Ser Jorah had been the catalyst for her vengeance. If it hadn’t been for Cersei Lannister senselessly slaughtering Missandei… If it hadn’t been for Jon Snow and his damned war against the undead…

That night at Winterfell, she had lost the one person who meant the most to her. He had always been by her side, supporting her, loving her…

She hadn’t seen it until it was too late. 

It wasn’t until he was dying in her arms that she realised what had been in front of her all along.

He had died and yet the North hardly seemed to care. They cared even less for her now that the war against the dead had been won.

Her anger and the bitter sting of rejection from the people of the North had only fuelled the torment building inside her. Worse than that, the one person who always knew what to say, who always knew what she needed, even before she did, had been burned on a funeral pyre along with the thousands of other men, women and children who had lost their lives that night.

Without him, she was isolated and alone in a foreign land that treated her with mistrust at best and outright disdain at others, making it clear that only Jon Snow would be their true ruler.

And then Jon had confessed that he’d told the remaining Starks of his true heritage, that he was a Targaryen and one who had a stronger claim to the throne than she did, even though he denied that he'd ever wanted it.

She had been through so much in her life, so many things that would have broken any other woman long before she had finally snapped and taken vengeance on every man, woman and child in the streets of Kings Landing.

In her fury, the faces of those innocent people had been replaced with every person who had ever mistreated her. She had been beaten, raped, humiliated, sold as a slave and wife by her brother. The faces were those of the slavers, the Sons of the Harpy, Mirri Maz Duur, Viserys. Everyone who had ever crossed her…

She’d lived a honest life up until that point, hadn’t she?

There had been so much good that she’d done in her life and yet history would remember her as yet another Targaryen who had lost their mind and released their fury on their innocent subjects, burning down Kings Landing in their uncontrollable ire. 

She would forever be the Mad Queen.

No matter how much good she had done, she would never be able to reconcile her actions in Kings Landing. If she was in hell, then it was exactly where she deserved to be.

Looking at her surroundings, it was no surprise to Daenerys that she found herself alone. Yet there was something achingly familiar about this place. The smell of the pine trees and the salty sea air reminded her of something.

It reminded her of someone.

Was this Bear Island?

Ser Jorah had told her stories of his time on Bear Island as they'd wandered through the Red Waste together. Perhaps it was the dehydration making them both delirious, yet she commanded him to tell her of the waterfalls and lakes of his homeland. She needed to imagine the cool taste of water, even if they had none and would soon perish in the desert wastelands.

He’d had such a wistful look as he described the island and looking around her now, it suddenly dawned on Daenerys why he had such a look of sweet sadness on his face.

Bear Island was beautiful. No, it was stunning.

Pine trees grew for as far as the eye could see and nestled in the rocky terrain were waterfalls with the clearest blue water she had ever seen. Even with flakes of snow in the air, the lush variety of greens that she saw in the foliage around her stood out starkly against the clear blue sky above her.

This certainly wasn’t her idea of Hell. 

She could hear birds in the trees and the faint growling of what could only be a bear. She smiled to herself as she realised that she wasn’t alone on the island. Even if she never came across another person, she would be content to spend her time with the creatures who shared this idyllic place.

Perhaps I have always been better with creatures than I have humans, she thought to herself.

Maybe it was her upbringing and her mistreatment at the hands of Viserys, but the actions and intentions of others mystified her. People were inherently selfish and would only use her for their own gain. It had been a lesson that she’d failed to learn until the day it had finally killed her. Her council had turned against her and used Jon Snow as the weapon to bring about her downfall.

She had thought Ser Jorah the only man she could trust and yet he had betrayed her from the very beginning. Even though his time working for Varys had been short, she had not allowed herself to get past her own anger and hurt until it was almost too late.

He had returned to her time and again after she banished him. He had given up his chance of returning to this beautiful place to stay with her. 

To fight for her. 

To die for her.

She had hurt him in ways so numerous that she could scarcely recall half of them. She had done so in anger and spite. He had shown time and again that his loyalty was to her, and her only. She had sent him away, knowing that if she looked into those sorrowful blue eyes of his that she would break down and take him back in an instant.

And so she had sent him away, and everything had changed. He was no longer there to guide her or to assuage some of her more impetuous impulses. She had turned some of the hurt he had caused her onto others and burned anyone who dared stand in her way.

She had told herself that every death sentence was a righteous one, that the Gods would see her as a true and just ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

Perhaps it was better that she was here alone. She caused enough carnage to last a thousand lifetimes.

As she walked through the forests, she saw a settlement up ahead. It was by no means grandiose, just a small castle set upon a large hill. Even if no one was there, she would at least have shelter from the cold Northern winds.

She could imagine Ser Jorah inhabiting the castle as the proud Lord of Bear Island. She could imagine him being happy here.

“Welcome to Bear Island, Khaleesi” she could hear him saying in that deep gravelly tone of his.

She could imagine his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as he stood behind her, looking up at the castle with her.

The sensation of his touch was so strong that it felt as if he were right there with her. It was so strong that she could smell him.

She turned slowly, her eyes widening as she realised that it wasn’t her imagination.

He was here, standing in front of her looking every inch the brave knight he was.

The last time she had seen him had been on his funeral pyre and although they had cleaned him and dressed him, she could recount every wound he took for her that night. He had thrown his body in front of numerous wights to protect her.

He stood before her now looking healthy and unharmed.

She sobbed as she threw her arms around him and for the first time in many years, he clung to her too, holding her close as sobs wracked her body.

She held him tightly, feeling his warmth and the strength of his arms wrapped around her. He was here, he had promised that he would never abandon her, that he would never leave her alone in this world, that he would die for her if it meant she could live.

“I lost you,” she sobbed into his chest.

“I would follow you anywhere, Khaleesi. I’d follow you for a thousand lifetimes.”

They had spent years in the wilderness, two exiles fighting to return to a land that had rejected and mistreated them, a land whose inhabitants had wanted them dead for crimes old and new.

Held in his arms, she knew that she was finally home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to be honest and say that I was not expecting such a response to this story when I posted it last week. I just want to humbly thank everyone who has read, left kudos, or commented - this truly is the best 'ship with the loveliest and most welcoming readers and writers that I have ever come across.
> 
> I've debated about whether this next chapter really works, but I couldn't just leave Jorah and Daenerys on Bear Island without having 'the talk' about The Long Night and what happened after...

She clung to him for what seemed like an eternity. She was afraid that if she let him go he would disappear and leave her alone. His death had been the single most traumatic event of her life. She knew that a part of her had died with him that night.

She’d lost a brother, a husband, a son. She’d lost Viserion, Rhaegal and countless numbers of her blood riders, and yet each of those losses was nothing compared to that of Jorah. She had collapsed on top of his unmoving form, clinging to him in the hopes that she could keep him tethered to the world of the living.

As the light in his eyes died, so did a part of her.

She hadn’t realised just how large a part until he was no longer there. It was one which she was unable to survive without.

“You’re here,” she said into his chest. 

She felt the rumble of mirth in his chest as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be, Khaleesi.”

He gently disengaged from her grip, lightly holding her arms as he looked at her. His face was solemn.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes dropping to the ground. He couldn’t bear to look at her knowing that he’d failed her.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she replied, cupping his face gently with one of her hands. She stroked his cheek tenderly.

He screwed his eyes shut, he knew Daenerys would see the sorrow in them. No matter how hard he tried, she had always been able to see into the depths of his soul. He could hide nothing from her.

“I should have been there to protect you. You shouldn’t be here,” he swallowed deeply, trying to keep his voice level.

She broke away suddenly. “You don’t want me here?”

The fact that he was rejecting her stung painfully. Had this been how he’d felt when she banished him?

To think that she had caused him such pain tore at her heart. How could she ever have been so callous and cruel to him?

He must have realised that she’d mistaken his meaning. As much as it hurt to give voice to his fears, he needed her to know. He needed her to understand.

The sob tore from his throat before he could stop it. “If you’re here…it means - “

He was a man of few words. Try as he might, he could not bring forth the word on his lips, to do so would give voice to the truth he was trying so desperately to ignore.

She knew instinctively what he meant. She could see the distress written clearly on his face. He had always been a stoic knight, to see him like this was almost more than she could bear. She would not put him through further torment by demanding he give voice to his greatest fear.

She nodded at him, using actions rather than words. It had always been their way. Just a look or a nod could convey more than words ever could. 

He stood looking at her, trying to regain some sense of composure. Letting out a shaky breath and shaking his head as if to clear it, he held his hand out to her.

“Can I show you something?” he asked, almost hesitantly.

She smiled at him as she took his proffered hand, trying to ease some of the sorrow that was still clearly etched across his features. “Of course, Ser. Lead the way.”

She followed him along a wooded path until they finally came to a clearing. She could hear the rushing water as she gazed at the beautiful waterfall before her. Jorah motioned to a fallen tree, helping her to sit on it.

He made himself comfortable beside her.

“When Bear Island was my home,” he began as he looked up at the waterfall, “I would come here to think and help clear my mind.”

She looked at him and gave him a wry smile. “I can see why. The view is breathtaking.”

Silence stretched between them. Daenerys could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere.

“I can see why you wanted to return home so desperately.”

He let out a tired sigh. “I did…for a while.”

“What changed?” she asked. She already knew the answer. It was not a matter of 'what' but 'who'. He had given up everything to remain at her side.

He looked at her intently. “All I’ve ever wanted was to serve you…to be by your side.”

She touched his face once more. “You’ve never let me down. No one has been more loyal, more devoted than you.”

He raised a hand to cover hers, a frown crossing his face. “Forgive me, Khaleesi, but I have to ask…”

She stroked his cheek with her thumb. “You may ask me anything, my sweet bear.”

She had meant it as a term of endearment but he’d winced at her words.

He closed his eyes as he spoke, not wanting to see the truth written plainly in her own.

“Why not Rhaego and Drogo?”

She was confused. “What do you mean, Ser?”

He swallowed deeply. “I had thought that, given the choice, you would return to your husband and son.”

The meaning of his words hit her suddenly. She withdrew her hand from his face in shock. It caused him to open his eyes and look at her. He looked crestfallen that she’d had broken the contact between them.

She’d learned to love Drogo, after a fashion, even though the manner of their initial meeting and subsequent marriage was brutal and terrifying. He'd called her his moon and stars and between them they had created a stallion who would mount the world.

But Drogo had died and Rhaego had not lived for long after she’d given birth to him. She had mourned for the son that she would never know. She had loved him as only a mother could, yet she had never known the child, would never see him grow into a man.

Her understanding of love and what it meant had been skewed since childhood. She and Viserys had been moved from place to place in order to keep them safe. She’d been sold to Khal Drogo and raped repeatedly on her wedding night. She had lain with Daario Naharis, knowing that their attraction to one another was nothing more than physical.

Her marriage to Hizdahr zo Loraq had been for purely political reasons, a move that had been thrust upon her by her advisors to bring about peace in Mereen. Like her, love was something to be bought and sold, a commodity constantly changing hands to the highest bidder.

She had thought that she’d found true love with Jon Snow. He'd bent the knee to her and she’d believed that she had his heart as well as his loyalty. To her eternal sorrow, she’d had neither.

The cracks had begun to show before the battle at Winterfell. The chasm had only growing wider after Ser Jorah’s death. She’d begun to resent him and blamed him in part for Ser Jorah losing his life. She had come to fight Jon’s battles, a battle that wasn't hers to fight, and he’d rejected her after learning of his true heritage. 

The fault lines in their relationship had become so cavernous that they could no longer be breached.

Ser Jorah had been the only person who had ever shown her true love. He had remained by her side as she took countless paramours into her bed, never saying a word while his eyes betrayed his anguish. He had served her loyally and faithfully for so many years, never demanding more of her then she was willing to give.

He’d confessed to her on the outskirts of Vaes Dothrak that he loved her. He had never pushed her to reciprocate those feelings and wanted nothing more than to be in her service and by her side when she finally took the Iron Throne.

The wounds he’d taken on the battlefield in Winterfell would have felled lesser men. Any of the blows he’d taken would have been enough to kill a man. Each time he fell, she feared it would be his last. 

And yet he kept rising. 

Wound after wound, he dragged himself to his feet and took another blow meant for her. As the precious blood leaked from his body and his physical strength began to wane, he kept himself standing for her.

For love.

He’d not fallen until he knew that the wights had been defeated, only then did he allow his body to sink to the ground. He had given everything for her, knowing it would mean his death. It was only then that she truly understood love and what it meant.

And it had been too late.

“I’m here because I choose to be,” she told him as she laid a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s where I want to be.”

He looked away again. “And if I told you that you could return to Drogo, would you?”

“I loved him once. I thought I understood what love was. I was wrong.” She felt tears building in her eyes, threatening to escape and roll down her cheeks. “I never understood what it was until I lost you.”

He looked at her, shocked. “Khaleesi?”

Jorah had always been a man who preferred actions over words. She leaned forward, cupping his face with both hands and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. She could feel him tense momentarily before urging her closer to his body until she was almost in his lap, both of them losing themselves in a passionate embrace.

They broke apart, each of them trying to regain their breath.

She smiled at him as their foreheads touched. “I am so sorry that we wasted so much time…that I didn’t see what was in front of me until it was too late.”

He gave her one of his rare smiles meant only for her. “If this is what you want, where you want to be,” he paused as he nodded at their surroundings, “then I don’t think time will really be a problem anymore.”

She giggled at his attempt at levity. Somehow he always knew how to make her feel like Daenerys and not just the Khaleesi or a queen. With him she had always felt safe, cherished, loved.

He frowned again and shifted her slightly in his lap. “Are you sure you really want to spend an eternity with me?”

She kissed him again. “Ser, I have never been so sure about something in my life. Will you teach me?'

"Teach you?"

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "How to love...and be loved?"

He reached out and ran a hand down her braid. "For you, Khaleesi. Anything."


End file.
